


Setting the Record Straight

by Krose516



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Texting, Fluff, M/M, New York City, Social Media, mention of dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krose516/pseuds/Krose516
Summary: Timmy drinks tequila and scrolls Instagram. Whoops.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	Setting the Record Straight

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic! These boys wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote this story down, so have some fluff! If you are only reading au A and T fics, this isn’t for you, as this is set in the present and deals with the shitstorm happening now. ❤️   
> Big thanks to lfg1986 and JaydenThorne for their help and support! 🥰

Timmy knows Covid is still very real and very scary but he needs a drink and a friend right now, which is how Will ends up in his apartment with a bottle of tequila (bleh) and a playlist to inspire Timmy to dance (and drink) the pain away. And yeah, he knows he shouldn’t be trying to drink to numb his pain, but his boyfriend is 1500 miles away on that fucking island, with that fucking woman who has helped accuse him of being a fucking cannibal rapist monster, so forgive him for needing a drink, or eight. Okay? Okay. 

He and Will have just finished taking their most recent shot (and oh my god, why tequila Will?!), when Will gets up to pee. Timmy takes to his phone and is mindlessly scrolling through IG when his curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the Armie Hammer hashtag. And yeah, he ALSO knows he shouldn’t be on fucking Instagram lurking around Armie’s hashtag because he’s only going to see awful shit, but he’s human and so fucking drunk. He’s about to force himself to stop when he sees a new post by Perez Hilton alleging that Effie, the fucking stalker who started this whole shitstorm, has posted a new screenshot with a dick pic from Armie. And of course, his rational, logical brain knows this absolutely can’t be true because Armie has never even spoken to that horrible woman, let alone sent her a picture of his dick...but he clicks on the link anyway. He scrolls through all the blah blah blah “article” bullshit and finally gets to the picture, to immediately start cracking up because that is 100% NOT his boyfriends dick. In fact, he’s a little insulted on Armie’s behalf. The guy is 6’5” and she couldn’t even find a dick that would look proportional to someone that size? Not that she’d ever find a dick on the internet that looked near as perfect as the dick he’d spent hours worshiping at the altar of, but like, do better Effie. 

Will plops down, apparently having made a pitstop in the kitchen, with beers and a bag of Fritos, which thank God. Grabbing a handful of Fritos and a gulp of beer, Timmy feels invigorated all of a sudden. Invigorated and so, so drunk. He’s going through the comments on the Perez post and seeing all these horrible, faceless no ones commenting things about how sick and twisted Armie is, of course. That’s par for the course these days, but he’s shocked by how many people really think it’s Armie’s dick. Sure, they wouldn’t really know any better, but still. He’s about halfway finished with his beer when his drunk brain decides he should comment on the post. So he does. 

@tchalamet LOL THATS NOT ARMIE’S DICK. 

Before he can realize that he should absolutely delete that comment and start freaking out, Will turns up a song from Cudi’s new album and he’s up dancing like a mad man. Phone discarded on the floor next to his couch. So that’s how he ends up maybe, probably (definitely) outing them on Instagram at 1:30 in the morning. 

The sound of Armie’s ringtone causes Timmy to wake with a start. He reaches down to the floor using the least amount of effort possible to find his phone, and the most amount of effort possible to not fucking puke. He doesn’t know how he wound up face down on his couch, what time it is, or where the hell Will went, but he does know that Armie’s calling and it’s the middle of the night. 

“Hello?” he mumbles into the phone after finally finding it and swiping the screen to answer. Armie huffs a light laugh. “Hey babe, seems like someone got into it tonight. Tequila?” he asks, not really needing Timmy’s confirmation. So yeah, Timmy can handle his liquor, other than tequila. And maybe, just maybe, he knows this and should’ve told Will to fuck off with that bottle when he got to the apartment, but he didn’t and well here we are. 

“I’m sleeping. And probably puking if I get up so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, love you bye,” Timmy slurs into the phone quickly. His accent sounding very similar to the panhandler with the brown paper bag you can find in literally every subway station. Yeah, we’ve reached that level but sad lonely, angry with internet stalkers, blah blah blah. He’s about to hang up when Armie stops him. “Don’t you want to know why I called at 3am?” Timmy’s drunk brain didn’t even get that far, but now that he thinks about it, he assumes Armie wanted to have phone sex. Why else would you call your boyfriend at 3am? Right? 

“I can’t even sit up, babe, I’m not going to be up for phone sex,” Timmy says, struggling to keep his eyes open. Armies laugh is loud, too loud for how close the phone is to Timmy’s face, but the sound makes him smile nonetheless. Armie’s voice is somewhere between teasing and gentle, “No T, I didn’t call for phone sex. We’re not even FaceTiming right now. Although, maybe we should be for what I’m about to tell you, er rather, remind you of.” Before Timmy can descend into complete madness trying to figure out what the fuck he is talking about, Armie saves him the trouble. “It looks like you took a gander at Perez Hilton’s new bullshit quote unquote article about me and decided to set the record straight. Well maybe straight isn’t the best word,” Armie chuckles, very pleased with his dad joke. 

Slowly, it all starts coming back to Timmy. The scrolling, the god so completely unnecessary beer (thanks Will), the dick pic, the Cudi song. THE DICK PIC! Shit. If Timmy thought he was going to puke before, he had no idea how much worse it could get. He’s quiet long enough for Armie to know he’s in a rapid tailspin. A second later, Armie is requesting to FaceTime. Timmy smiles immediately upon seeing Armie’s face. He’s just so fucking hot and even drunk at three something in the morning, Timmy can’t help but think so. Reality comes rushing back and fuck, he outed them on fucking Perez Hilton’s Instagram. He doesn’t even like that guy. Ugh. 

“T? Look at me. It’s okay. My dick is honored that you felt the need to defend him! It’s very noble of you to make sure people know that that was, in fact, not your boyfriend’s dick,” Armie says, trying to keep the mood light because he knows Timmy is going to be freaking out about this for a long time. He appreciates Armie’s attempt to make him feel better but he’s worried about how this is going to affect the very delicate situation they’re dealing with. Lawyers, subpoenas, internet bitches. It’s all this ridiculous balance and it was HELL just getting his agent on board with a small show of support in the announcement of his and Luca’s involvement in that random ass cannibal movie project. THIS is not going to go over well. He just jumped ten spaces. Shit, he passed GO and is probably not collecting that $200. 

“I messed everything up. This is so fucked, Armie. Everyone is going to be so pissed. Brian is going to kill me. Fuck,” he rambles on, desperately trying not to cry. They had plans for this and oh my god, this is the messiest way to do this. Armie’s DICK. Seriously?! “What are people saying? Is it awful? Should I look? No I definitely shouldn’t. What the fuck?” Timmy all but cries out. Armie hates seeing him like this, he knows. Although, it really isn’t anything new with his tendency toward anxiety and tailspins at basically every inconvenience. Why did this God of a man throw his life in the shitter for him again?! Really good blowjobs? Maybe? Probably. 

“Well no, I definitely don’t think you should read them. In fact, I think I have consistently told you to stay away from reading comments altogether. But if you must know, there’s a few assholes saying asshole shit but it’s actually mostly comments from people claiming they knew we were together all along,” Armie says, chuckling. They both know they haven’t always been subtle and have left their fair share of clues for those that bothered looking deeper. “So basically like ‘King Shit’,” they say, practically in unison. Timmy can’t help but laugh thinking about how much trouble they got in over a silly comment Armie just insisted he leave on a picture that was absolutely NOT. A. THIRST. TRAP, no matter what Armie says. 

“Babe, I promise it’ll all be okay. You know I’m supposed to give an exclusive on all of this anyway and I can’t think of a more exciting exclusive than telling the whole world about my boyfriend who I love endlessly and his noble defense of my dick.” Armie’s tone is teasing but also filled with so much love, it instantly makes Timmy feel lighter. “I absolutely cannot allow you to talk about your dick in an interview with a national fucking treasure, Arms!” Timmy is joking but also serious because that just seems like it’s against some sort of code of ethics, right? “Why not? I could print out some actual dick pics ahead of time,” he says, giving Timmy a sly look. “I can see it now, she’ll tell the audience to look under their seats and then ‘you get a dick pic, you get a dick pic, EVERYONE GETS A DICK PIC!’”, Armie shouts out. They’re both cracking up as Timmy says, “I hate you,” obviously never having loved him more than this exact moment. 

Once the laughter has subsided, Armie insists Timmy get up to get some water, take some Tylenol, and get ready for bed. Since he’s stopped feeling like he’s going to puke and knows he shouldn’t sleep on this shitty couch, he agrees. Not wanting to say goodnight to his boyfriend yet, he carries Armie around with him as he goes about his tasks. He’s taken his Tylenol and is getting undressed when Armie starts to whistle. “Damn T, am I getting a strip show right now?” Armie asks teasingly. “I thought you weren’t up for phone sex tonight but if you’ve changed your mind, I’m all in.” Timmy rolls his eyes, faking annoyance, when really it’ll never not be flattering as hell that that man wants to have phone sex with him. Forget phone sex, ACTUAL SEX! And yeah, he should go to bed but this is very tempting. God-like man, remember? He’s about to say fuck it and go all in as well, when Armie stops him. “I can tell you’re thinking about it, but I also know you’re tired as shit and it’s been a hell of a night, so go to bed and we can have all the phone sex you want tomorrow, baby.” The genuine nature of Armie’s voice makes him feel so loved, and so seen. Internet bitches can try all they want to tear them apart and ruin their careers, but no one is going to take away this connection, this love they share. No. One. 

“I love you, you ridiculous man,” Timmy says, hoping Armie can hear how much he truly means it. “I love you too, T. And everything’s going to be alright, I promise. Now get some sleep. Night babe.” Timmy makes a kissy face at the screen and says his goodnight. 

He plugs his phone in and sets it on his nightstand while he goes to brush his teeth and pee before getting into bed. He looks at it one more time before rolling over. There’s a message from Armie. A gif of Tom Cruise jumping up and down on Oprah’s couch, followed by a text that says, “me when I get to tell the world how much I love you 😘”


End file.
